The Only Thing
by emergency-heart
Summary: Sherlock Holmes has been dead for three years. John comforts himself by sending texts to Sherlock's old number, when he misses him too much. But what happens when he gets a reply. My first Sherlock Fanfic, Rated M for slash, swearing and sexytimes.


**Hi there Sherlockians, may I present to you all my first ever Sherlock Fan fiction and also my first ever smut fic. This piece originally started life as a role play that started by chance on Omegle with a fellow but currently inactive writer who goes by the penname of ****DespicableNny****. **

**DespicableNny**** wrote the Sherlock parts and I wrote John and added some extra narrative, but I think I speak for both of us when I say we hope you enjoy it. **

**Warnings: Rated M for swearing and a lot of JohnLock lovin'**

The Only Thing

He used to call the number everyday just to hear his dead friend's recorded voicemail message. Almost three years on to the day, he managed to get by, by sending the odd text when things got too much and he missed his former flatmate. Since he couldn't bring himself to take cabs any more, John forced himself to endure the disorganised mess that was the London tube system. Normally this was fine, but the sight of a tall floppy haired violinist busking away with a frenzied passion outside Baker Street tube station had sent him storming back to 221B with fresh and angry tears hot in his eyes. Upon arrival John collapsed dramatically into what had been Sherlock's favourite arm chair and allowed himself to shed the tears of anguish that were inexplicably overwhelming him for the first time in over a year. Seeking a hollow comfort from the faint musky scent of 'Sherlock' that seemed to linger in the chair he reached for his phone and began to type with trembling fingers.

_Sherlock, stop being dead. Just stop it please? -JW_

_I never was dead, John...you've caught me at a good time...I'm coming home. –SH_

John nearly dropped his phone in shock, before getting a grip on himself and texting back with his heart hammering in his chest.

_You're what? Is this some kind of sick joke? Whoever you are you're a cruel bastard –JW_

_John, It's me... you hid my fags in the skull, remember? Other than the guy who hired us for the Baskerville case, no one else knows about that... –SH_

_Or if you need more proof, the last words you said to me, in person, were "Sod this. Just stay here, then, on your own." You thought Mrs. Hudson had been shot, and I declined to join you at the hospital. –SH_

_But... how? Sherlock I saw you jump. –JW _

If it was possible to stutter over text John was certainly doing it now.

_Molly supplied the corpse, and we found a way to make the perfect mask... the same way I assume Moriarty did to make those kids fear me... –SH_

_Why didn't you come back? -JW _

John knew he sounded like a jilted lover but he really didn't care, if Sherlock was really coming home he wanted to know why he'd let him suffer for so long.

_I...had no choice, John. Moriarty may have been dead, but his men were still active...If I'd come back, they'd know and they'd have killed you. –SH_

_Sherlock, why did you let me go through that? I thought you were dead. My best friend, DEAD Sherlock -JW_

_Better to have to watch you from afar, John... than to see you dead because I told you. Anyway they'd have noticed your mood change... –SH_

_Sherlock, I... –JW_

John had finally run out of words but he sent the text anyway- he wanted Sherlock to know just how speechless and emotional he was.

_You what...? -SH_

_I don't know what to say. Do you have any idea, what I went through after I saw you jump? -JW_

_I have some idea...but not everything. I just...I had to make sure, of all people...that you were safe, so I needed you to see me fall... –SH_

_I don't really know how to say this Sherlock but ...oh god... I missed you so much. Please tell me this isn't some awful trick. –JW_

_John. Would I ever do that to you? -SH _

John was about to answer that he didn't know any more after this latest stunt when a familiar baritone voice uttered a simple but emotional "Hello" and stopped him dead in his tracks. Sherlock had been walking up to the flat the whole time, and now stood in the doorway, thinner, but not too bad off, and his hair was a lovely shade of syrupy brown. John looked up from his phone. His hands were shaking.

"Sherlock? My god Sherlock it's really you!" he almost sobbed.

"Of course it is..." Sherlock smiled walking over and happily hugging John. It was out of character for him, but three years unable to sit and talk with the man had nearly killed him. John fell gratefully into the embrace. Holding, feeling, hugging the man he loved so much, breathing in his scent until he remembered how angry he had been.

"You absolute prick Sherlock Holmes!" he cried breaking off the hug and swinging a poorly aimed punch at Sherlock, which he dodged effortlessly. Sherlock didn't bother dodging the second punch that came his way, however he did laugh when it connected.

"Still dodging the nose and teeth I see..."

"You deserved that" John growled

"I did not! John," Sherlock cried indignantly, "If I hadn't jumped; you, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson would be dead... but most importantly... you would be... I know I'm repeating myself, but fact is, you are the only thing that really matters to me."

"I'm sorry." John agreed sheepishly "It's just it's been so hard without you. When I met you, you turned my whole life upside down and it was bloody fantastic, but then just jumped and left me alone again. I had no idea you weren't dead- how did you expect me to feel?"

"The same way I did... and worse..." Sherlock muttered, clearly dancing around something, but John couldn't figure out what.

"How did you feel?" he quizzed, mildly impressed and somewhat excited that Sherlock actually felt something for him.

"Lost, alone" Sherlock replied honestly, hesitating slightly "… and I realized a few things; most importantly, something I realized while Moriarty was trying to make me jump. When he said all my friends would be killed, you were the only thing that came to mind without any effort; Mrs Hudson and Lestrade took thought to realize... but I didn't waste an instant thinking about you..."

"Me?" John gasped disbelievingly.

"You..." Sherlock confirmed nodding his head solemnly. "I don't understand emotions very well, but you're the only one that can really make me notice them..." Johns own emotions were racing,

"What emotions Sherlock?" he asked, desperately willing the statuesque man to tell him what he needed to hear.

Sherlock looked down for a moment, processing what to say and how to say it. "I... love you, John." He admitted quietly. Overcome, John threw himself at Sherlock, pulling his friend tightly towards him, never wanting to let him go again. "I love you too Sherlock" he whispered in his ear no longer scared to admit his feelings.

Sherlock blushed slightly. "I'm glad to hear that… I feared you'd find someone else..."

"Who else would there be?" John grinned shyly.

"How should I know? Not that it matters. I'm home now..." He looked down into John's eyes.

"There's no-one Sherlock" John smiled up at his companion, "There's only you."

Suddenly Sherlock let his instincts take over and kissed John square on the lips. It was a strange first kiss, but equally wonderful. Instantly John's brain went into meltdown. It was finally happening; the dreams that had been plaguing him since Sherlock's 'death' were coming true. He'd never kissed a man before, but this felt so fantastic he would've quite happily stayed like this for the rest of his life. He met the kiss with a passionate enthusiasm he never knew he was capable of. Sherlock hadn't expected his warm a reaction and kissed him deeper. He pulled back, however when he realised he wasn't entirely sure where to go from here. He knew the mechanics, sure, but he didn't know anything else about this sort of thing.

"Wow" was all John could say when he caught his breath, "So what happens now?" he asked,

"I was hoping you'd know that answer, I know you've never been with a man before, but what would you usually do...?" Sherlock responded, in breathless anticipation.

John frowned slightly, "Well I suppose, I'd do more of this," he said caressing Sherlock's sharp cheekbones and pulling him down for another kiss, tangling his fingers in Sherlock's curls. Sherlock moaned into this one, loving the feel of John's fingers in his hair and against his scalp.

"Mmmphh ... John..." he whispered through the kiss.

"What is it Sherlock?" John mumbled against Sherlock's ivory lips.

"This feels really good..." Sherlock didn't know what else he could say. For once, he was losing his ability to think things through completely, and more than that, he liked it.

"That was what I had hoped" John hissed in Sherlock's ear, completely allowing instinct to overwhelm him as he kissed Sherlock's neck. Sherlock moaned louder now that his lips weren't occupied. He wrapped his arms around John's shoulders and bit his lip, eyes shut, as the other man made him feel things he'd never imagined before.

"Oh. My. God. Sherlock." John moaned eagerly.

"What am I doing? You're incredible..." He stepped back for a moment, pulling John with him to his old room. Whatever they did, he wanted to do it here. John was so dizzy with Pleasure he hardly even noticed the change in his surroundings. Sherlock was sending him into overdrive, it was terrifying but oh god, perfect. Sherlock let his instincts keep control as he pushed John back on the bed and kissed him deeply, letting John take some lead, however, in how far they took this.

John was pleasantly shocked at being allowed some control for once. Seeing Sherlock, powerless and writhing in pleasure was doing something ridiculous to him. He wasn't exactly sure what it was but he liked it, a lot. Sherlock kissed him deeply, pulling at the buttons on John's shirt with one hand, and his own shirt with the other. Sherlock knew he wanted optimal skin-on-skin contact, and he wanted it badly. For once, he simply let his body get what it wanted, no, what it craved. John could feel his shirt slowly falling open under Sherlock's slender fingers, this was it now. Once they passed this point there was no going back to being 'just friends'. Surprisingly John was ok with this fact, but he wasn't about to lose his best friend and now lover over it.

"Sherlock," he hissed, his breath hot against his friends cheek, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"John...If not with you...who would I ever want to share this with?" Sherlock purred as he got ever more drunk with lust, "I could stay a virgin forever, but I can't seem to help myself now, and for once I don't mind that thought in the least. My body is taking control for the first time since I can remember and I'm actually happy to let my mind rest a while. That's something _very_ new for me..." He kissed John again. "I've never been surer of something in my life..."

John had never been so aroused in his life. Sherlock was a virgin? For some bizarre reason he hadn't been expecting that- less so that he would actually admit it. At his lovers honest words John deepened the kiss, allowing his hands began to fumble at the remainder of Sherlock's shirt buttons. "Good because, I've never done this before Sherlock- well not with another bloke anyway, but I feel the same... This feels... amazing..." John panted when he surfaced for air.

Sherlock smiled, happy to know John could share in this new experience. He had wondered on rare occasion what he'd done in the past. He kept his shirt on, but unbuttoned. He'd noticed John staring at his purple shirt in the past. He knew he liked it quite a lot. He began undoing John's pants and would let the soldier take care if his. This only made it more fun as John gasped as Sherlock's agile fingers brushed over his groin area as he felt his trousers pool around his ankles. He buried his face in Sherlock's marble chest and let out a feral moan as he felt the purple silk of Sherlock's shirt against his skin. "Sh-Sherlock" he hissed as he let his hand begin to wander lower and lower. Sherlock kissed John again and again and moved to lick at his neck. He was still gently but quickly tugging at John's strong manhood, though he was slowing down. He didn't want to go too far and get him off before they started.

"Tease." John thought as Sherlock gently palmed him through his boxers. This was going far too slow for his liking, he wanted. No. He needed more. He looked at the half undressed man who was currently straddling him and slowly working his tongue deliciously down John's chest. "You Sherlock Holmes are wearing far too many clothes." John panted, sitting up with a surprising amount of strength and pinning the self-proclaimed "High-Functioning Sociopath" down on the bed and casting his trousers aside.

With nothing more than the thin fabric of their underwear between them, John became acutely aware that he was now operating solely on instinct as he sat himself upright on top of Sherlock and began kissing and nipping at his chest, feeling the detective growl in pleasure as John's tongue flicked over his nipple. With this encouragement John continued to repeat this action until he reached the waistband of Sherlock's boxers, where he paused momentarily and looked up at his partner with a mischievous grin... Sherlock looked down curiously, watching John's face.

"What is it? What are you planning...?"

"Well" John smiled knowingly. "Personally, I've never done it before but I speak from experience when I say I can guarantee you're going to like it. Now should I continue?" He asked, slipping a hand under the waistband and tugging them down lower, brushing Sherlock's erection as he did so. Sherlock gasped. "W-Well...I...God. Anything you do is welcome, John..." He stuttered, clearly in his own euphoria. Smirking at the extent of his friend's desire, John allowed Sherlock's boxers to join the rest of the clothing on the floor. Slowly he brought his mouth down on Sherlock's manhood, causing him to jump slightly and then gasp in pleasure. Sherlock bit his lip, softly whimpering already. He'd certainly never imagined anything like this.

John had never imagined pleasuring someone else could ever be such a turn on. He flicked his tongue around his friend teasingly, as each of Sherlock's raptured moans sent sparks of electricity to his own groin. Sherlock managed to keep his torso propped up by his elbows, though his head fell back in a rapturous moan. Hearing Sherlock panting his name as he began to use his hands as well as his mouth, was possibly the sexiest thing John had ever heard. He loved the way Sherlock bucked and squirmed against him involuntarily. He loved the fact that for once HE was the one in control.

Sherlock kept writhing and clinging to the sheets, "John, John… JOHN!" he gasped climbing closer and closer to his nirvana. John looked up at Sherlock sensing he was close. John increased his pace urging Sherlock to let go. He wanted to be the one who brought him the ultimate pleasure. Soon Sherlock bucked his hips and spasmed, twitching and moaning as he released into John's mouth, panting his name as he did so. John did not stop till he had swallowed all that Sherlock could give him. He smirked triumphantly in the knowledge that he had been the first one to make Sherlock Holmes come. He himself wasn't far off now either.

Sherlock panted a few moments, trying to catch himself. He had to give John the same pleasure. Once he caught his racing mind again, he moved a hand down first, stroking John's length as he gingerly kissed his way down John's body, unable to help himself at John's nipples for a few moments before working his way once again to his groin. He paused to enjoy the view before licking the tip curiously, moaning at the taste and finally engulfed him. John was in ecstasy. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined Sherlock doing this to him. He nestled his hands in Sherlock's curly hair and moaned in pleasure. Sherlock thought it wrong to have been so wonderfully pleased, and leave John without. It seemed rather nice to do this anyway, and he began bobbing his head up and down over the hardened muscle. John cried out, unable to contain his excitement. He bucked his hips towards Sherlock and bit his lip. Sherlock moaned around him, deep throating him. He'd learned a trick some time ago to hold his left thumb tightly in his left hand so he wouldn't gag.

"God. Sh-Sherlock" was all John was able to stutter in his fevered state. This felt more than good, more than great, in fact it was taking all his efforts not to fall over the edge and succumb to the indescribable pleasure Sherlock was giving him. Sherlock continued on, waiting for the hot fluid to run into his mouth. He was so curious. Still, he didn't have to wait long, as soon as he began to use his hands to caress what he couldn't fit in his mouth, John quickly found himself coming with a thrilling vigour he'd never experienced before. He buried his face in Sherlock's toned shoulder and breathlessly growled his best friend and now lover's name. Sherlock drank up all John spilled into his throat. He was surprised how delicious and intoxicating something like this could be, but then John had enjoyed it as well. Now he understood why.

John was breathless. He couldn't quite believe what Sherlock had just done to him. He gently pulled the detective up for a tender kiss, "I love you Sherlock Holmes" he murmured against Sherlock's now slightly red lips.

"…And I you, my dear Watson," Was Sherlock's contented response as he kissed him back and lay down beside him.

John rested his head against Sherlock's marble chest. "Please never leave me again." he asked quietly.

"Never... If I go, you'll come with me." Sherlock whispered softly.

"Promise?" John asked, feeling slightly childish.

"Promise."

That night John slept peacefully for the first time in three years with his head against Sherlock's chest. The agonising nightmares that had once plagued him relentlessly were finally gone.

**Thanks again to DespicableNny, without whom this fic would never have happened.**

**Please read and review, ****like I said this is my first ever Sherlock fic so please be kind!**


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